When the Sun Ceases to Shine
by Jini
Summary: She had to leave for him to realize that the blanket wasn't nearly as warm as it was when she was in it. IchiRuki.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Summary: She had to leave for him to realize that the blanket wasn't nearly as warm as it was when she was in it.

Author's notes: This was a fanfic request I did for my friend Vivi on LJ.

Enjoy :)

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**When the Sun Ceases to Shine**

**Prompt:** Blankets

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If someone told him he would have to share a bed with Kuchiki Rukia, he would have laughed and felt sorry for the poor idiot, because clearly he was delusional, thinking he knew better than Ichigo. And Ichigo knew better. Hell would freeze over, pigs would fly and the sun would cease to rise every morning before he'd _ever_ share a bed with Kuchiki Rukia. That was a promise.

Now, if he knew that out of some twist in fate—or maybe because someone upstairs really loved to screw with him—that this was actually going to happen, he'd have tracked down the bloody bastard who'd cursed his life (and quite possibly, his sanity too) and proceed to beat the living shit out of him. Or at least have brought an extra futon with him before the inevitable happened.

As it turned out, it did. And Ichigo was without that extra futon. This was it. Hell had frozen over, pigs had sprouted wings and began to fly, and by God, he wouldn't be entirely too surprised if the sun never showed up again. Yet another irony he could habitually chuck under the category of 'my life'.

"Stop moving already," said a muffled voice from the other side of the bed—_his_ bed. Dark, tousled hair and glaring blue eyes poked from underneath the blankets. Well, _his_ blankets. "You're making it hard for me to fall asleep."

"It's my bed," he said, irritated. "I could kick you out if I wanted to." He seriously wanted to.

"But it's cold," she said, snuggling into the covers for emphasis. "You humans have very poor closet insulation."

"The thermostat is broken, you idiot," he deadpanned. "Dad's having someone come over today to fix it."

"Oh." She shrugged and turned to her side again, almost kicking him in the process. "Whoops."

"You're so annoying," he muttered, staring upwards at the ceiling with a silent plea for an act of divine power that would knock him until dawn.

Well, it was act of divine power that broke their thermostat and had Rukia sharing beds with him in the first place. Oh the irony. It was almost tempting to take the couch in the living room. Almost. It was even colder downstairs probably. Despite being in the sanctum of a Rukia-free environment, Ichigo didn't think the cold would make it any more comfortable to sleep in.

He scowled. "Can't you move over a bit?" he demanded, nudging her with his elbow. "You have all the space—and stop hogging all the blankets, Rukia, I'm freezing my ass off here too—"

"What are you talking about?" she said, turning around. She was looking just as irritated as him now. "I'm so much smaller compared to you—how am _I _hogging all the space and the blankets?" She tugged on covers.

"Well, since you're so small, you shouldn't have to get half as much of either of them," he retorted and tugged the blankets back.

"Maybe if you weren't so _big_ to begin with, I wouldn't feel the need to compete for my share of the blankets, you moron," she said heatedly. She tugged harder on the covers. "Give it back, Ichigo!" she hissed.

"No, _you_ give it back, Rukia," he said. "They're _my_ blanket and this is my bed. I call first dibs on both of them."

She glared at him which he returned. Finally, having gotten fed up, Rukia threw the blanket in his face. "Fine, you can have your stupid blanket and your stupid bed—"She got up and slid off the mattress.

"Where are you going?" he huffed.

"Downstairs," she said curtly.

"It's cold downstairs," he said flatly.

"Well, at least I'll be away from _you_," she said.

That stung. "Well, good riddance then," he grumbled and threw the blankets over his head. "I hope you freeze to death while you're down there."

"Hmph, well for your sake, I hope I do too," she said furiously. "Then I can haunt you and make you feel guilty for the rest of your life for being a total asshole! And when I turn into a Hollow I'll take the pleasure of eating your soul—"

"What the fu—that doesn't even make any sense!" he said, incredulous.

"It's my idea—it makes perfect sense!" she said, hands at her hips.

Ichigo wanted to yank out his hair. "No, it doesn't!"

"Yes it does!" she said, stubbornly.

"Damnit, Rukia, no matter how you look at it, it doesn't make any sense!" he said. He wasn't sure why he was even arguing with her about this in the first place.

Rukia's face flushed red. "Sometimes, Kurosaki Ichigo, you can be a great big idiot!" she said before shutting the door closed behind her. He was sure she'd have slammed it if not for the fact that there were other sleeping residents in the house.

"Arrghhh!" he growled and buried himself deep under the covers.

Rukia was so good at pushing all the wrong buttons; she might as well have a PHD on the subject. She literally drove him insane.

Well, he thought with some superiority, now that she was gone, he could finally get some sleep.

However, as the silence continued to fill his room, Ichigo found still found himself awake.

What was more: his anger had soon ebbed away and he was left feeling the bitter residues of guilt. He did his best to ignore it at first—he tossed and turned in his bed with hopes of getting comfortable again—but the guilt wore on, almost tauntingly, and made sleep close to impossible. And to make matters worse, Rukia's scent lingered on his pillow—the smell of jasmine, tea and sweets—and the spot on the bed she'd once occupied was still faintly warm—as if to remind him of what he'd loss earlier.

No matter how much he tried to get warm, he just couldn't. The blankets were soft and made of cotton, but being under them didn't make him feel cozy or comfortable. Instead, it felt empty. It felt _cold_.

Fine, I get it, thought Ichigo with another aggravated sigh. Fate loved seeing him suffer.

He pushed off the bed, wrapped his shoulders with the blanket and went downstairs.

He found her in the living room, huddled on one corner, clearly trying to get warm. When she saw him standing by the threshold, she huffed and looked away.

"What are you doing here?" she said coldly. "How is a girl to die in peace with you hanging around?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and took a seat beside her on the couch. "Here, get under the blankets," he said, lifting up the sleeve.

Rukia scoffed. "Why in the world would I want to do that?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Because you'll freeze?" he said.

"Isn't that the reason why I came down here?" she said, sarcastically.

Ichigo sighed. "Just get in, will you?"

"No."

"Rukia."

"I said no," she said, obstinately, blue eyes flashing.

"It's warmer under here," he pointed out.

"I don't care," she said insolently. "If this is your way of trying to make it up to me then you can just forget it. I'll still be eating your soul when I turn into a—waahh—"

Midway through her rant, he'd grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the blankets. It proved to be both a failure and a success. His firm but gentle tug sent Rukia to stumble against him, her arms to press at his shoulders and her legs to tangle in his.

Oh, thought Ichigo, blinking at their sudden close proximity—he could practically see himself in her eyes and feel her breath on his chin. Well, he thought, mildly surprised and yet not entirely dissatisfied with the turn of the events as he probably should have been, he clearly wasn't expecting that.

But she was _warm_. And he wasn't so cold anymore.

And before he could help himself, he had reached over and kissed her. Just a soft and lingering press of his lips to hers—but it was like awakening an inferno; her mouth was so warm it was all Ichigo could do to make himself stop.

When he pulled away, felt her intake of breath, he took in her expression: from her wide, blue eyes, her parted, bruised lips to the blush on her cheeks. She was looking every bit as incredulous as she felt. Then it was gone and she looked just about ready to clobber him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, trying to push off him, but he held on to her. Her face was flushed scarlet. "I swear, Ichigo, I'll kick you some place you'll likely _feel_ till you're old and dead," she warned.

"Will you just shut up and sit still already?" he said, mildly exasperated. He rolled his eyes again. "You really are annoying."

Rukia made an undignified sound at the back of her throat, but didn't come any closer.

"Okay… I'm sorry about earlier alright?" he mumbled, feeling his face heat up. "I didn't mean it. Now will you just come under the blanket already? I'm getting cold and you're not exactly helping."

When he looked up again, Rukia was staring at him. Like she couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. Or maybe she saw a flying pig somewhere. Nonetheless, it put Ichigo on edge.

"What?" he said, almost defensively. Then he groaned, in out-right horror. "You're going to ask me to say it again, aren't you? Oh dear God."

Rukia's surprise was only temporary. Her lips turned upwards into a growing smile. She looked faintly amused.

"No," she said, leaning up to peck him on the lips. "Just hearing you admit you were wrong is enough food for my ego."

"I should have known you'd rub it in," he muttered, but didn't to mind so much when Rukia crawled back into his arms again. He took in the scent of jasmine and sweets and just sighed, content.

"You were right about one thing though," she said as she tucked herself underneath his chin.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It _is_ warmer under here," she said.

That morning, the sun came up.


End file.
